Island of Dreams
by midnighrunner
Summary: When hardedged business man Mark Calloway bought Sharni Bruerer's beloved Irish birthplace of Mint Island, Sharni resloved to do whatever was necessary to protect it.
1. Default Chapter

A/N's: Alrighty, here I am again. The idea for this stems from the character Sharni that appeared in my last fic, "Love in the Air." Ok, I'm setting this a sort of a prequel to "Love in the Air," (a very distant prequel) only Mark doesn't own the radio station yet. For now he's just a businessman. Anyway, I'm sure your tired of listening to me rant on and on about Dwayne, so let's get started with Mark. Oh, and I've decided to set this on an Irish island...if that's a problem (I don't if Mr. Calloway has an Irish blood in him or not), please let me know, and I'll be happy to fix it. And I don't know the Undertaker that well, so if I describe him wrong, please, please let me know.

Disclaimers: Same as always, I own no one....blah, blah....don't sue....blah, blah....

Chapter One

Sharni Bruerer pulled her coat more tightly around her. On Mint, as on the other Irish islands, the weather was windy and unpredictable until the year was well advanced, and today was only the last day of March. The rough wind pulled at Sharni, whipping her copper hair round her face. Her heart would be in this lovely place till the end of her life.

She had left the island when she was eighteen to train as a nurse in Dublin, and she had remained at Dublin General for five years. Then Franklin Laidley, the owner of the island, had fallen ill. The island's doctor had told Franklin that he must either live on the mainland, near a hospital, or have a live-in nurse. Franklin had refused to budge from his home. So Sharni had returned.

She had cared for Franklin for a year and knew her job was coming to an end. The old man grew weaker every day.

The ferry had docked now, and the passengers were leaving it. From the top of the harbour road her eyes were drawn to the last man off. He was tall-Sharni would guess well over six foot, perhaps even seven foot-and he moved with a swift, purposeful step. He ignored both the taxis and the cart and headed straight for the steep hill that climbed to the village. Then a bend in the road took him out of sight.

She headed for the antique shop. Maria Stratton, its owner, was not an island girl, but a "foreigner" from Dublin who had visited Mint one summer ten years ago and fallen in love with a farmer. Maria was busy with a customer when Sharni entered.

Sharni plunged into her large bag and brought out something wrapped in soft cloth, which she unwrapped with great care. A small ivory figure came into view. Sharni pulled off her coat and picked up the ivory figure again. It was beautiful, and she knew it had cost the old man a real pang to part with it. Mint Castle had once contained many lovely antiques, but now they were dwindling fast. 

The doorbell jangled and she looked up. It was the tall stranger from the boat who stepped inside. Close to, he confirmed all her first impressions. She was five foot four, and he towered over her. His shoulders were very broad and heavy with muscles.

His face might have been attractive but for the grim expression on it. His eyes raked her quickly, impersonally, before dismissing her, flicking instead over the ivory figure that she had set down on a low table as he entered. He came near and lifted the figure, handling it like someone who knew antiques.

"How the devil did this get here?" he said abruptly. His voice held no trace of the lilting burr that gave away island natives.

"I beg your pardon?" she said.

"Never mind. How much? I'll pay whatever you're asking."

"I'm afraid that's not for sale," she said firmly, and reached out her hand for the figure.

He frowned, turning the figure over between his fingers without seeming to hear her. The frown darkened his face still more, emphasizing the hard line of his mouth.

She went on. "It's part of a private transaction-"

His eyes narrowed. "What kind of private transaction?"

"I don't see that's any of your business."

To Sharni's relief Maria came to her side. Her eyes widened when she saw the ivory figure in the man's hand.

"I'm afraid you can't buy that," she said at once.

The man sighed. "This is becoming monotonous. Is this, or is it not, an antique shop?"

Maria answered the man in a brisk voice that matched his own.

"It is. And I'm the owner. But I'm merely acting as broker between the seller and the buyer of that figure. If you want to acquire it, you can do so through-" She reeled of her father's name and address of his Dublin shop. "I'll be pleases to tell him to expect a visit from you after I've delivered it tomorrow."

To Sharni's relief the man placed the figure back on the table and took out a notebook and pencil. As he scribbled the address he said, without looking up, "Tell him to hold if for me. He won't get an offer better than mine."

He didn't wait for an answer, apparently assuming that his command was sufficient. Before departing, he cast a keen glance at Sharni. It was the scrutiny of a man who wanted to commit her to memory.

"The cheek!" Sharni exploded when the door had shut. "I hope your father prices that right out of his range."

"It's not likely," said Maria. "Something tells me _that _one will be able to afford whatever Father asks. It's work a tidy amount. You can tell Himself not to worry."

Sharni thanked her and took her leave. She gasped as the wind attacked her again the second she stepped outside, and pulled her coat more firmly around her. Despite the cold, she had no qualms about the two-mile walk that she must make to Mint Castle, which lay on the far side of the long, narrow island.

Much of the road home lay across a peat bog, where Sharni could see that the cutting had already started. Arms were waved to her as she passed, and she waved back.

The land began to slope upwards. Seabirds wheeled and screamed overhead, for she was nearing Mint Castle, which was set on top of a cliff. It was nearly two hundred years old.

Franklin was sitting in his wheelchair in the hall when Sharni hurried through the front door. He was small man of nearly eighty, shrunk by age and illness and with a transparent quality to his skin.

Sharni told him about her visit to the shop. She made no mention of the man who had wanted to buy the figure, but she emphasize that Maria expected to get a good price. He grunted. 

"That's grand as far as it goes, but that won't be very far, I fear. There was a letter from Ian this morning-"

"Did your son say anything about coming to see you?"

Franklin snorted loudly. "He'll come when I'm in my box, not before. Then he'll drain the rest of you as he's drained me. And then he'll sell the place." He sighed. "Perhaps I should have sold it myself when I had the chance. But I knew only one man who wanted it, and I showed him the door. His name was Mark Calloway. He was going to turn my grandfather's wine cellar into a basement office, with a computer and God-knows-what-else, so that he could keep track of everything that was happening in all his factories." Abruptly he drained his tea and held out the cup to her. "Put some whisky in there," he commanded.

"Franklin, I don't think-"

"Do as you're told! I don't pay you to think, but to keep that meddling doctor quiet so that I can stay in my home. And you needn't, any of you, think I'm done for. I'll not be leaving here till I've seen my friends safe. You can count on that."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N's: Hey, Sharnhorst read my "Shades of Gray" fic. Thanks! Were this story not already dedicated to you, I would dedicated it to you.

Chapter Two

Franklin Laidley died three weeks later. He went to be cheerfully one night and did not wake the next morning.

Sharni cleared her things out of the room she had occupied at Mint Castle, said goodbye to Jani, the housekeeper, and went back to the village. Her Aunt Carol and Uncle Robert owned the village pub, The Thistle, and this had been Sharni's home since her parents had died in her fourth year. Her old room looked as if had the day she first went away, and she was happy to be in it again for a while.

A month passed. Sharni heard from Dublin General that a sister's post would shortly become vacant. She made a trip to the city to attend an interview and was eagerly welcomed back by the hospital officials, who had been sorry to lose her. There were a few weeks still to go before she could take up her new post, but she returned to Mint with the cheerful feeling that her future was happily settled. She wished she could say the same for the island.

She was in The Thistle one evening, pulling a pint for Dr. McNeil, when the door opened and Maria Stratton came rushing in like a whirlwind.

"_He's done it!" _she exploded. "The rotten swine. Ian Laidley's sold Mint Island and never had the common decency to write and tell us himself."

She held up a copy of _News & Around_, a weekly news magazine. "We've all been taken over by some huge industrial conglomerate." She was almost in tears of rage. "We belong to Calloway Industries," she said bitterly.

She began to read out odd passages from the article.

Calloway was thirty-seven and had started from nothing, turning himself into a multimillionaire in an astonishingly short time.

"What does he look like?" said Carol. "Is there a picture?"

"Ay, on the next page." Maria flicked the page over.

Everyone craned to see the large black-and-white picture of a harsh face with deep set eyes and a shockingly familiar goatee.

"I'd not care to meet that one on a dark night," said Carol. "Did you ever see a face like that?"

"_Ay!_" said Maria and Sharni with one voice. "_We have!_" 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N's: I'm feeling a bit depressed today over some stupid group that I didn't get into at my school. So, to ease the feeling of crappiness I've decided to turn to my old reliable friend...writing. Hope you all enjoy.

Chapter Three

Three weeks later, Sharni was again packing for departure. She got all her things laid out on her bed and began to run through them methodically.

"Would you know what I did with my copy of _Cardiac Nursing_?" she asked Carol, who had come into the room bearing a cup of tea.

"You kept it at the Castle when you were nursing Himself," said Carol.

Sharni groaned. "Oh, it must still be there. I'll have to get it."

"But how will you get in?" said Carol. "Jani is still on the mainland with her daughter."

Sharni chuckled. The window of her bedroom at Mint Castle had never closed properly. She could retrieve her property without anyone knowing that she'd ever been there.

When it was dark she found her way easily to the house. She made her way to the shed, where she knew she would find a ladder.

The window yielded easily. She pulled it wide open and hoisted herself over the sill. She could make out the furniture in the moonlight.

She had reached the cabinet and was leaning down to open it when the noise of the window being pulled shut made her whirl around. A huge shape loomed between her and the light.

"I don't know who you are," she managed to say, "but you've got no right to be here."

"That," said a harsh voice, "was the last thing I expected you to be stupid enough to say."

At the sound of that voice she clutched the cabinet for support. She had heard it once before.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her round so that he could see her face in the moonlight.

"Just as I thought," Mark Calloway snapped. "The girl from the antique shop, doing a little more thieving."

She stared at him, aware that her jaw had dropped. "I climbed in that window to get back my own property. If I'd known you were here, I'd have knocked on the door."

He gave a short, angry laugh. "That's a little feeble."

"I'm telling the truth," she said wildly. "My name is Sharni Bruerer and I'm a nurse. I looked after Franklin because he had a bad heart, and when I left here I forgot to take my book on cardiac nursing."

"Where is the book?" he demanded.

"In my bedside cabinet."

He released her, and she darted to the bedside cabinet. Frantically she reached into every corner, but the cabinet was empty. "It was here," she said desperately. "Jani must have moved it when she cleared up after I left."

"I don't like thieves." He had taken hold of her arm and was propelling her towards the door. He drew her downstairs and into Franklin's study. He snatched up the telephone receiver and seemed to become aware for the first time that there was no dial. While he hesitated, a voice spoke in his ear. Jessica Gudinas had piercing tones, and Sharni had no difficulty in making out her words.

"What number can I get you, please?"

"The police station," said Mark Calloway, "and quickly."

There was an ominous pause. It meant that Jessica, who was "sensitive," had heard a voice she didn't recognize and disliked its tone.

Then Jessica's slightly acid voice was saying, "I'm afraid there's no reply from the police station."

Mark drew in a slow, exasperated breath. "That's impossible. There must be someone there."

"Ay, you'd think so," Jessica agreed in an affable manner that told Sharni she was preparing to dig her heels in, "but he's not there, I can tell you that. Would you try again later, perhaps?"

Before he realized what she was doing, Sharni snatched up the receiver. "Let me show you how it's done. Hallo, Jessica? I'm awful sorry to trouble you at this time of the night."

"Och, it's no matter," said Jessica, friendly now that she was dealing with a caller who paid her the proper respect.

"Who's supposed to be on duty at the police station?"

"Sam Brodie. But he had to slip over the Bebber Farm awhile. That dog's been worrying their sheep again."

"Could you call Bebber Fram and see if Sergeant Brodie is still there?" said Sharni. "And if he is, ask him to come over to the Castle. A hardened criminal has been found breaking in"

"A hardened criminal, you say? Who would that be?"

"Me, of course. Who else?" Sharni put the receiver down and faced Calloway. "Bebber Farm is no distance. Sergeant Brodie should be here in about five minutes."

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Well, I'll be damned," he said slowly. "I've got to give you the prize for nerve. You should have gone into business, Miss Bruerer. You'd probably have made a million by much the same methods as I did myself."

"I wonder if your methods are the kind I'd care to stoop to, Mr. Calloway," she said coolly.

His face hardened again. "I'm not taking that from a girl who's been robbing a sick old man of his treasures. The worst that's ever been said of me never included an accusation of _that _sort of behavior. But I'm glad you said it. It's cured me of a momentary weakness I was beginning to feel. Now you can take what's coming to you."

A knock came at the front door a few minutes later. When Sam Brodie came inside, Sharni smiled up at the man who had bounced her on his knee when she was a child.

"Now, what sort of game are you playing, lassie?" Sam said.

"I'm afraid," said Sharni, "Mr. Calloway caught me climbing up a ladder to get into the window of my old bedroom."

"Now that was wrong of you," said Sam at once. "Suppose you'd slipped and fallen?"

"I take it that you know you this young woman?" asked Mark.

"Of course," said Sam, bewildered. "Everybody knows Sharni. She kept Himself alive almost single-handed with her fine nursing."

"I cam to get back my book on cardiac nursing," Sharni said for Sam's benefit. "I go to Dublin tomorrow."

"You're away to the hospital to be a nurse again, aren't you?"

"I'm going to be a sister now. They've promoted me."

"Och, that's wonderful. I hadn't heard that. Congratulations, lassie. I'd have come and drunk your health in The Thistle tonight if I'd known-"

"When the two of you have finished," said Mark, rigid with anger, "perhaps I could draw your attention back to the matter in hand?"

"I think you'd better clear my character, Sam," Sharni prompted. "Mr. Calloway thinks I'm a thief because I popped into Maria's shop with one of Himself's ivory figures. Nothing will convince him that I'm not replenishing the stock by unorthodox methods."

"Don't talk so daft, lassie," Sam begged. "Take no notice, Mr. Calloway. Sharni has her own sense of humor."

Sharni tightened her quivering lips to stop herself laughing out loud and found that Mark's hard, glittering eyes were fixed on her. She'd done the unforgivable, she realized. This man would not tolerate being made an object of mockery.

Sam turned to Mark. "Sir, are you easier in your mind now that we've cleared up the identity of this desperado, or do you want me to arrest her and give her a night in the cells?"

"Since you vouch for her good character, that won't be necessary." He had recovered his poise, but Sharni deceived. Beneath that smooth exterior, anger till vibrated.

"Now then, lassie, shall I walk you home?" Sam asked.

"I'd be obliged if you'd remain here, Miss Bruerer," said Mark at once. "Since you seem to be familiar with the house, I'd like you to show me where everything is. I can escort you home afterwards."

"I'd not put you to the trouble, sir," said Sam.

It was obvious that Mark Calloway wanted privacy to have a flaming row with her, and Sam was determined that he wasn't going to have it. But Sharni wasn't afraid of him.

"Thanks, Sam, but there's no need," she said. "There's nothing for me to be scared off."

"In that case, I'll be off home to my bed." He went and closed the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N's: I'm feeling less depressed today. So, I thought I'd get out another chapter for ya'll. Again, I like The Undertaker, but I'm not a huge fan, so if I describe him wrong...please, let me know. Thanks!

Chapter Four

With the light on she had a better view of him. Mark wore dark slacks and a white shirt that was open half-way down, revealing a deep chest. The sleeves were rolled back, exposing powerful tanned forearms.

"I walked right into it, didn't I?" he said. His tone wasn't unpleasant, but there was a look in his eyes that warned her he was far from reconciled to his defeat. "You set me up beautifully." He bit out the last words.

"No. You set yourself up. If you hadn't been so nasty with me, I'd have gone easier on you."

"Why didn't the operator tell me what she told you, by the way?" he asked.

"You offended her. Jessica doesn't mind leaving her bed to put through calls, but she does like appreciation."

_"Leaving her bed?"_

"Ay. The switchboard's in her room. Otherwise she might not hear the bell at night."

"I had no idea I'd find the phones still manually operated. That's something that'll have to be changed," he murmured almost to himself.

"You're planning to change a great deal on Mint, aren't you, Mr. Calloway? If you don't like the place, why take it?" she said. "Why not leave it for someone who likes us as we are?"

He stood facing her now, his eyes fierce. "Did Ian Laidley like you as you are? He couldn't wait to get rid of Mint, and for the highest price he could command. You may not like me, but in time you'll agree that I'm the best thing that could have happened to this island."

"I wonder if I shall?" she mused.

"You will. _I'll make you!_" he said in a curious voice of soft violence.

She shook her head. "You'll not make the islanders give you their hearts by pointing a gun at them."

He scowled. "Never mind the others. I think I should like the satisfaction of hearing you admit that I was good for Mint."

"Perhaps I will-in about a hundred years." She laughed.

"Until you do, you and I have unfinished business."

She realized that he had come closer to her. One large hand was behind her waist, pressing her gently against his big, powerful frame. She looked up to his dangerously close mouth and his eyes, which were so dark like looking into infinity.

"Don't you know," he said, his lips curving into a slight smile, "that the greatest insult a woman can offer a man is to say that she feels perfectly safe with him?"

His arms tightened as he spoke, and he hardness of his mouth on hers silenced her reply. She tired to twist away from him, but it was hard to remember to fight him when every teasing, flickering movement of his tongue touched off fires that raced along her nerves to the farthest reaches of her body. 

He had started out to teach her a lesson, but his body was caught in the same fever as her own, she realized. He released her lips and began to kiss the soft skin of her neck. She moaned and found that her hands were urgently caressing his back.

"I was a fool," he murmured huskily in her ear. "Feel what you're doing to me-it's more than I can stand-"

He tried to capture his mouth again, but she twisted her head sharply away. She wanted him passionately, but stronger than desire was fear. She turned her back and stood with a hand over her eyes, longing to be back in his arms but determined to resist the temptation.

She dropped her hand and looked up at him. There was no need to tell him why she'd broken away. She could see in his eyes that he'd guessed.

"What happens now?" he said. "It's up to you."

She pulled herself together. "Nothing happens-except I go home."

"And then?" His voice was tense.

"I don't know what your future is, but mine is a ward sister in the Dublin General, a post I leave to take up tomorrow. I doubt our paths will cross again."

She turned away, but he seized her arm and pulled her round to face him. "Do you think I couldn't make them?"

She looked up at him with angry eyes. "Do you think force will serve you this time?"

Their eyes held for a long, blazing moment. Then she felt him begin to draw her closer, and put out a hand to ward him off. But at the last moment he stopped, held rigid by a high-pitched wailing that sounded as though it came from a distant siren.

"Where in hell is that devilish sound coming from?" he demanded.

She wrenched herself free from his grasp and seized up her jacket.

"It comes from Creggan Farm, and it means there's an emergency," she said, shrugging the garment on. "Someone has to be rushed off the island in an air ambulance. The pilot has to land in one of the fields of Creggan Farm. We all turn out and help shoo the cattle into the next field. Then we set up landing lights."

"Naturally," he said faintly. "This is something I'm determined to see."

She was out the door almost before he finished speaking. He took up a jacket and caught up with her.

Sharni didn't stop until she reached Martha Creggan, the farmer's wife.

"Gather some bottles, lassie," the woman called, "and hurry away with them."

They joined the islanders, stretched out in two lines, placing bottles to mark the edges of the landing strip. The first match flared, then another, and another, until at last every taper was burning, giving a wide path for the plane from Dublin to land in.

Almost immediately the Islander could be seen, circling the runway, positioning itself exactly midway between the lines of milk bottles with their glowing tapers, descending, coming slowly in to land.

The plane had come to a halt close to them, and its lights played on Sharni's face. The wind had whipped her hair round her cheeks, and her eyes were shining. Mark took a deep breath. The flames from the tapers burned in her eyes, and she seemed to stand out like a jewel in the darkness.

She stood there, her eyes fixed on the plane till it had taxied away and taken off with its patient. All around them the crowd was moving, collecting up the bottles, extinguishing the lights, taking them back to Martha to be put away until next time.

"Well," Sharni said, "I'll be bidding you good night, Mr. Calloway."

He seemed to come out a dream and speak with an effort. "I'll walk you to your home," he said.

"You will not." Her eyes twinkled. "I'll not make the same mistake twice."

He winced as though she had struck him. "Don't laugh at me, Sharni," he said harshly.

Amusement bubbled up to her lips, but it died there. "All right," she said softly, "I'll just bid you good night."

She hurried away. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/n's: Well, after a long hiatus...I'm back. I'm not really sure if anyone's still interested in this fic, but since I'm tiring to avoid writing the friggin' essay I have to do on Thornton Wilder's Our Town this seemed like the perfect thing to do.

Chapter Four

She'd been back at work for two weeks now. Her new duties took a great deal out of her, but she found them satisfying. Sharni perched herself on the edge of her bed and began to rip open the parcel that had come for her from Mint. She found herself holding her copy of _Cardiac Nursing_.

Then she saw an envelope. She tore it open and read.

_I found this in the library._

Be good enough to accept my apologies for my unjust accusations. I have to be in Dublin for a few days so please let me know when you are likely to be off duty, so that I can arrange to be available to take you to dinner.

Yours sincerely,

Mark Calloway

She read the letter again. In just such terms must Mark Calloway have invited fellow tycoons to a working lunch. But it was no way to entice a woman.

Before she went to bed she sat down and wrote him a note, as formal as his own, telling him that she was grateful for the return of her book, but that there was no necessity for him to take her to dinner.

******

Two weeks passed. Maria wrote to say that the following weekend was the date set for the _reiteach _of Sally Fergusson and Murdo Strachan, and could Sharni get away? A _reiteach _an engagement party, and Sally as a dear friend of hers, so Sharni wrote to her aunt, giving her travel details.

Saturday she made Dublin Airport in good time. It was a fine, warm summer day, and she was looking forward to the weekend.

"Sharni!"

The deep, beautiful voice behind her caused her to jump. She looked around. Even in those prosaic surroundings Mark Calloway was overpowering.

"I'm glad I bumped into you," he said, "because now you can travel home with me. My helicopter's here."

"But-I have a seat on the plane."

"The three o'clock is a very popular flight. There's a mess of people at the desk hoping desperately for returned tickets. By coming with me you'll enable one of them to get a seat on the plane."

He had a point. "It would be a real treat to be able to get there direct and not have to take the ferry," she said at last.

******

The helicopter was nearing the village.

"There's a piece of open land," said Mark. "I'll set you down there, and you won't have far to walk."

A bump and they had landed. Mark opened the door and got out first, reaching up to help her down.

"I'll see you at the _reiteach _tonight," he said. "Will you promise me the first dance?"

"Of course," she said. It would have been impossible to refuse.

When the helicopter whirled away, Sharni turned to face the interested crowd that had gathered round her.

"_Well_," said Carol, "I suppose there _may _have been a bigger sensation round her in the last fifty years, but I can't recall it."

"And he demanded the first dance," said Uncle Robert, who had been standing close enough to hear what was said. "But I thought you could have answered him a little more enthusiastically, lassie."

"I said yes, didn't I?" Sharni protested.

"Ay, but you made is sound like a duty. That's no way to catch a fisth."

"_Robert_," she said indignantly, "will you stop your nonsense? Carol, make him behave!"

But even Carol failed her this time. "It would be a fine thing for us all," she said wistfully.

Sharni's cheeks flamed.


	6. Chapter 6

A/n's: I'm baaaccckkk!!!! Ok, I'll admit it, I have more for this...but I was to lazy to type it up...I'll put it up tomorrow I promise. 

Chapter Six

Because the weather was kind, the _reiteach _took place on the open land near where Sharni had landed. Joey Rannach would play the fiddle all night, fingers never tiring. Sharni noticed that Joey had a livid black eye.

"It was Mr. Cronin," said Sally Fergusson. "He's Mark Calloways' factor. He's been going round to all the tenants 'discussing' their tenancies. He told several people that the rents were 'uneconomic.' He nearly had a fit when Joey told him he didn't pay any rent at all."

"I told him is was a gentleman's agreement between me and Himself," Joey put in indignantly. "He thought I was talking about that one at the Castle now. I told him Mark Calloway would never be Himself if he stayed here a hundred years."

"You see how it is," Sally said, distressed. "How can we pay what Mr. Cronin calls 'economic rents'?"

The music started, and at once the dancing area was crowded. Sharni looked around. She refused all partners, remembering her promise to Mark.

Suddenly a tall, red-haired man had come to stand on the edge of the circle. His eyes were brilliant, and they scanned the crowd.

Sharni could see how those closest to Mark Calloway had stopped what they were doing to stare at him. She could tell he knew of the politely veiled coolness that everyone felt towards him and, incredible though it might seem, he minded desperately. 

His eyes were on her as she walked towards him. She saw the slight sag of relief in his shoulders, which no one else would have noticed. As she neared him she stretched out her hands in welcome. 

His words came awkwardly. "Am I too late for my dance?"

"No."

Joey struck up the sweet, gently refrain of a waltz, and Mark Calloway took her into his arms.

"I asked you to have dinner with me, and you sent me a refusal so cold it almost froze my hands on the paper."

"You didn't really want to take me," she protested.

"After what there was between us, you though I didn't want to see you?"

"But that...that was so long ago. I thought you'd forgotten-"

"I'll never forget," he said simply. "And neither will you."

It would be useless to deny it. With her body pressed against his, her blood sang from the close contact. He wanted her. And an instinct born deep in her newly wakened senses told her that he had wanted her throughout every moment of the weeks they had spent apart. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/n's: Ok, I said I'd have this up a couple of days ago, but things have been a little crazy. I've had basketball games to attend and I haven't had a lot of time. But, it's up now of your reading enjoyment. 

Chapter Seven

Sharni had a confused impression of having been hurried away from the _reiteach_, followed by the curious eyes of the other guests. She knew what a sensation they must have created, but she was beyond caring.

He drove like a madman along the moonlit roads, until at last she saw the outline of Mint Castle. Mark had screeched to an abrupt halt outside his own front door. He sat there gripping the wheel.

"I suppose I've offended everybody by rushing off like that," he said.

"I doubt it," she tried to reassure him. "They won't have expected you to make more than a formal appearance-"

"Yeah, that's just it," he broke in with muted savagery. "They don't expect me to stay, and they don't want me to. They hate me," he brooded.

"Well, do you care about a bunch of Irish rustics? If you don't succeed on Mint, you can always buy up another island and try again."

He shook his head. "Never!" he said. "It has to be Mint." He slammed a hand on the wheel.

"Why, Mark?" she said urgently.

Instead of answering, he helped her out of the car and took her hand. "Do you know your way down this path?" he said.

"Ay, I've taken it many times. But why?"

"Just follow me, and you'll see."

At the bottom the sand was firm. He drew her along the rock wall to where some large stones provided a natural seat.

"You might say I bought Mint in order to own this beach." He fell silent for a moment. At last he said, as if the words were forced from him, "My mother was a Mint girl. She fell in love with a man from the States, a tourist." His voice was harsh. "He went home leaving her pregnant. When she caught up with him, he called her names and threw her out."

Unconsciously, he had taken hold of Sharni's hand.

"My mother never came back here. She assumed the name of Calloway and passed as a widow. She talked about this beach, how beautiful it was. She died when I was seventeen. I hitchhiked and got the ferry to Mint. I found the beach without any difficulty, and for the first time in my life I felt I belonged somewhere."

He was silent for a long time.

"And then," he said at last, "Franklin Laidley came storming down the cliff path and told me to get the hell off his beach. He picked up some stones and began to throw them at me. I'd have killed him if I could for what he'd done to me. I don't mean a few stones-"

"I know," she said gently, "he'd ruined everything."

He made an almost imperceptible movement. "He called the police. I spent the night in jail and was escorted off the island the next morning. And I promised myself that somehow I'd get enough money to buy this place, and then no one would ever be able to turn me away again."

"I went to night school and took business courses and fought my way to the top. I came here five years ago, hoping to buy the place. Laidley wouldn't even consider selling. But I had the satisfaction of knowing that he didn't recognize me from our last meeting. How could he? I hardly recognized myself, I'd changed so much."

"But you got what you wanted," she said.

For the first time he smiled at her. "The thing I'd forgotten in all those years of dreaming was the people. I never thought of them rejecting me." He raised his hand as though making a discovery. "It's funny-you wouldn't believe how much that hurts."

"It could be different," she urged. "If they know you're one of them-if you tell them everything you've told me."

"_No!_" The world seemed to exploded from him like a gunshot. "They can never know about that. Try to understand-they have to take me as I am."

"Then why not do the same for the islanders? If people are hostile, it's because you've made it so plain that you're a threat to everything we hold dear. Of course Mint needs bringing up to date. It's only the way you're going about it that's wrong."

He looked at her curiously. "What would you do if you were me?"

"There are five farms lying idle of Mint right now because there's no one to farm them. I'd give the first tow years rent free, and I'd make interest-free loans to buy stock and farm machinery. I'd tell folks they can stop worrying about their rents. And I'd tell Joey he can stay where he is on the dame terms as before."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I'd build a cottage hospital so that women wouldn't have to go away to Dublin to have their babies."

He got up and came to stand in front of her, taking her by the shoulders. Through the hard grip of his fingers she could feel him shaking.

"It means a lot to you, doesn't it?" he said intently.

"It's the most beautiful place in the world."

His eyes glinted curiously. "I'll do everything you want."

She laughed. "You're quite mad. You don't mean it."

"I mean every word. I want something from you which will more than repay me for what I'm giving. If you marry me and have my children here on Mint, they'll accept me. I'll belong."

"It's impossible!" she said violently. "We've only met twice. We don't love each other. There's nothing between us-"

"That's not true, and you know it. You haven't forgotten our last meeting any more than I have. You remember that I desire you, and you're too honest to deny that you desire me." 

She sighed and dropped her head into her hands, suddenly weary. Memories came and went-Sally Fergusion, telling her troubles, knowing that Sharni was the one person who could help; Joey, complaining about the factor; the strange way everyone looked at her. They had all seen this coming, and they were all depending on her. They were he old friends, the people she loved. Could she let them down now that she held their fate in her hands?

"Tell me one thing," she said, turning to face him. "Was it an accident that we met at Dublin Airport this afternoon?"

"Of course not," he said impatiently. "I don't leave important matters to chance. I knew from Carol what plane you were booked on."

"You've thrown a net over me, haven't you?" she cried passionately. "Any you think I can't get away."

She turned from him, but he stopped her with an arm that was like a steel band round her waist. He pulled her towards him, and his voice rasped with a passion that she had heard once before.

"You've belonged to me since the moment I first held you in my arms," he said.

She made one last effort to deny herself to him, but he kissed her with terrifying skill. She recognized something in him too-a desperation that amounted almost to pleading.

"Mark," she said at last in a voice that she barely recognized as her own. "I'll marry you." 


	8. Chapter 8

A/n's: As requested here's yet another chapter for my faithful fans. If after reading this you still want more go ahead and read my newest writing attempt _Daughter of the Moon_. Yes, another shameless plug...hey, ya can't blame a girl for trying. ;)

Chapter Eight

She was embarrassed a week later to have to go into the hospital's head office and explain that she was leaving again so soon after being taken back, but the superintendent listened with enthusiasm as Sharni outlined the plans for the island's future.

"I really feel I can be more use there than here-" Sharni tried to say, but the superintendent broke in.

"My dear, if they're really going to build a cottage hospital on Mint, I'd rather you were there. You'd be amazed how many hospitals are designed and built by idiots who know nothing about how hospitals work. You'll be able to stop them from making stupid mistakes, I dare say."

That was Sharni's own feeling. She did not regard herself as leaving work but as changing one job for another. Making sure that things went well on the island was going to be a full-time occupation.

******

Three weeks later she became Mark's wife in a big, round fifteenth-century kirk, whose spire dominated the village.

Her headdress, as befitted an island bride, was made of small white flowers that had been picked in the wild. Her bouquet was white roses interspersed with myrtle, the symbol of life, union and rebirth.

Pastor Dunbar led them down the steps to a large stone pillar into which another, much older bit of stone had been embedded. Part of it protruded just above head level, and into this was cut a very large hole.

Every neck in the kirk craned towards them, for although the rumor had gone round that the new owner meant to be married in the old way, it had been met with general incredulity. But now, fascinated and only half believing, they saw Mark Calloway pass his left hand through the hole in the stone and take hold of his bride's right hand.

Pastor Dunbar spoke with a raised voice, using the words of the old dialect.

On the previous day Sharni had translated the words to Mark. She wondered if the shared her sense of being caught up in a implacable destiny from which there was no turning back. The solemn words underlined it. Whatever the future held, they said, their oaths had made them one, to endure together all their lives.

As they walked out of the kirk door, it was the piercing sweet tones of Joey's fiddle that met them. The man turned and began to lead the way, playing a lively jig and occasionally capering to the music. They swung away from the kirk towards the bridge. Sharni looked up and found her husband watching her face with a smile in his dark eyes that made her heart turn over.

"Am I doing this right?" he said softly.

"You're doing fine," she assured him. "Keep your eyes on me till we get over the bridge. Then, as legend goes, you'll be safe from the kelpies, and you can look away."

But perhaps he didn't understand her, for when the bridge was passed his gaze remained on her face. He seemed transfixed by the faint flush on her cheeks, which glowed in peachy softness against the white of her veil.

Later that night, when it was dark and folk were wandering happily home to their beds, it was said by many that the queen of the kelpies could have shouted herself hoarse. She'd not have got Mark Calloway away form his bride.

******

When he carried her over the threshold of the castle, she blushed. When they were inside the bedroom, he kicked the door closed and set her on her feet. Then his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her hungrily. There was passion in it, but also reassurance, so that the reckless speed at which she was swept along became less alarming.

She had often tried to imagine him naked. Now she could see all his beautiful body. He radiated power in every line, from the deep chest, to the lean hips and long thighs.

His hands were touching her naked body with caressing, intimate movements. She twisted her head violently, as a fork of fire went through her.

She felt him part her legs and move between them, possessing her quickly, so that she gasped at the sharp pain that briefly invaded her. But then it became suddenly easy, as though Mark were really a part of her. The piercing sweetness of his movements inside her compelled her into his rhythm until at last she let herself fall into the void. She called his name, and when the tremors that shook her were finally stilled, she found that he had never let her go, and his arms had held her safe all the time. 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N's: I want to say thanks to Sharni for pointing out my mistake with Mark's eye color. Their green, not dark as I described them. I'm so sorry for that, I know I hate when an author describes my favorite wrestlers wrong, so I hope ya'll can forgive me. Oh, and I'm not sure if Barbados really is five hours behind the U.S. or not, but for the sake of this chapter, it is now. ;) 

Chapter Nine

As a lover he was ferocious and tender by turns. Sometimes she could almost believe that their passionate desire for each other was a strong enough basis for marriage. Almost-but not quite. She knew that she did not have his love. And she wanted it. For, after three weeks, she could no longer blind herself to the fact that she had fallen deeply in love with him. 

Even on their honeymoon, Mark had never entirely stopped being a businessman. Barbados was five hours behind the U.S., and he would often spend the early hours of the early hours of the evening in nonstop telephone calls to colleagues, rivals or Willis Rackham, his personal assistant. Sharni would spend these hours dozing until it was time to get up and prepare dinner, followed by a night of Mark's skillful loving. Once Mark had said to her, "I'd expected you to complain about the time I have to spend working, but you seem to have adjusted to being a businessman's wife remarkably well."

"Oh, I'm very grateful to Mr. Rackham and the others," she murmured from the bed where she had been napping. "But for them, I doubt I'd get any sleep _at all_."

He laughed and dropped his head to kiss her tousled hair.

******

In the car on their way to the home of Sally and Paul Kendal in the heart of New York City, Mark said abruptly, "There's something I should tell you. You'll meet a woman called Denise Blackman at the dinner tonight. She's just come back from London, where she's been having a very costly holiday-at my expense." He spoke without looking at her, keeping his eyes on the traffic. "It was partly a goodbye present," Mark went on. "I knew that if she was in London, Blair Hawkins would follow her, at least for awhile. I felt safer with him out of New York. For years we've been trying to stab each other in the back, because New York isn't big enough for both of us."

Misinterpreting her silence, he went on impatiently, "I've broken my old ties, and the break are final. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, don't believe them."

The dismay that possessed her was not for Mark's casual admission that Denise had been his mistress. It was for the cold-blooded way he had behaved towards her. Suppose the day ever came when he felt Sharni's own usefulness was at an end!

And there was another thing that dismayed her almost as much. "Mark, if you're so nervous about leaving Blair Hawkins a fee hand in New York, how can you get away to Mint? I thought we were going to spend at least half our lives there." 

"We are. That's why the fight's coming to a head now. I have to render him ineffective."

Mark and Sharni arrived late, and dinner was served almost at once. Sharni found herself sitting next to her host. She like Paul Kendal at once.

"Who's the man staring at me as if he can't make up his mind whether I'm fish or fowl?" she asked over dessert.

"That's Blair Hawkins."

"So that's him," she said slowly, in a tone that made Paul look at her sharply.

"Mark has told you about him then?" he said.

"Only that they're trying to cut each other's throats."

"That's one way of putting it," said Paul, speaking quietly under the din of chattering guests. "But Mark has ethics. Hawkins has none. He goes straight for the jugular. Watch out for him, Sharni. You may find yourself having to care for Mark through a bad patch."

A cold hand clutched at her. "But _why?_" she said.

Paul gave a grimace.

"A few months ago I thought Mark was poised Hawkins off the face of the Earth, but then-" He stopped, seemingly embarrassed. "Have a little more wine," he said.

"What happened a few months ago?" she demanded.

"You of all people to ask that?"

"You mean it was Mint?"

"Of course. The island cost him over a million, and it's likely to cost him more by the time he's finished making changes. That's blown quite a hold in his reserves."

A chill of fear had crept over her, though whether she feared for her husband or her beloved home, she could not say.

She and Paul made small talk until dinner was over, and later she found herself facing Blair Hawkins himself.

Hawkins said in a soft, caressing voice, "Everyone wants to meet the girl who achieved the miracle. And when they've met you, my dear Mrs. Calloway, they go away and lay their bets."

"You mean they're betting on how long the marriage will last?" she said, challenging him.

"Precisely. How astute you are."

"Well, let me give you the best investment advice you'll ever get. Put your money on 'till death do us part,' Mr. Hawkins. It's not a risk, it's a certainty."

He stared at Sharni. An alert look came into his eyes as she excused herself.

Sharni slipped upstairs to where the coats were laid and she could examine her appearance. Denise Blackman followed her in.

"Don't fool yourself that you can hold his interest. When the moment comes, don't antagonize Mark by trying to hang on. Just get the best pay-off you can," she said.

Sharni looked her straight in the eyes, her smile as cold and steely as Denise's. "Well, pay-offs come in many different forms, don't they?" she said. "Including, so I've heard, trips to London."

Sharni seized up her coat and whisked herself out of the door before the other woman could recover from her shock. She was amazed at herself.


	10. Chapter 10

A/n's: I put up another chapter of _Daughter of the Moon_, but since no one seems interested I thought I'd get back to work on this fic and _The Children's Crusade_, the next chapter for that one should be up in a couple of days.

Chapter Ten

When Sharni had first seen Mark's beautiful New York home, in the heart of the city, she had loved it. It was her first experience with sumptuous living, and at first she reveled in it. But gradually it palled. Having servants embarrassed her slightly. Eventually Sharni was confronted by a boredom that buying another new dress would not help. She longed for Mint. Autumn had come, and the island would be at its loveliest.

So when Willis Rackham, Mark's personal assistant, telephoned her to say that he was calling on her with amended plans for the hospital, she breathed a sigh of relief that at last things were starting to happen.

At the same time, she was puzzled. That he should take time off to bring her the plans himself, rather than send a messenger, was very strange. But it soon became plain that he had an object in view.

"This looks a great deal better," said Sharni, as she flicked through the pages he handed her.

"And a great deal more expensive," said Rackham in a quiet, cold voice. "It was bad enough when he spent a fortune buying that white elephant. Now he's pouring money into it hand over fist. He's letting the farms at giveaway prices-"

"Do you seriously think the rent of a few out-of-the-way acres makes any difference one way or another to a man having a boardroom battle with Blair Hawkins? They'll be fighting in millions."

It was shot in the dark.

"If you know about the Hawkins, battle, then I'm amazed that I have to explain to you why Mr. Calloway needs every penny," said Rackham in a harsh voice.

Sharni held her breath. She had no intention of letting Rackham suspect how little she knew.

Her gamble paid off, because after a moment he went on, "I know you're new to business, but stock dumping isn't a hard thing to understand. Surely you can see that it would be fatal for Mr. Calloway to go into this with his hands tied by too many other obligations."

"Yes," said Sharni, hardly knowing what she said. There was a roaring in her ears, and she felt dizzy. She knew she must get rid of this man. "You've said what you came to say, Mr. Rackham, and I think you'd better go now."

Sharni made no effort to show him to the door. She was incapable of movement.

******

Mark found her upstairs, seated at her dressing table, a pensive look in her eyes. He bent and dropped a kiss on her neck. His eyes fell on the hospital plans.

"Ah, good! Do they meet with your approval?"

"Yes, they're fine. Mr. Rackham brought them."

Mark made a sound of impatience. "So that's where he was when I wanted him. It's not like him to be gallant at the expense of work."

"He wasn't being gallant. He wanted to get me to abandon the projects for Mint. He said they were ruining you."

"Damn him! It's lucky he's not here now." Mark's face was hard with anger. "I made you certain promises, and I'm keeping them."

She jumped up, banging her hand on the dressing table. "If I'm doing you damage, I want to know. I want us to talk about it and-"

"Look..." He passed a hand tiredly in front of his eyes. "Sharni, there'd be no point in my discussing business with you, because you wouldn't understand."

"I understand stock dumping," she said.

There was silence.

"Rackham _has _been opening his mouth, hasn't he?" said Mark grimly after a while.

"I let him think I knew a bit more about the Hawkins battle than I did."

"I've been buying Hawkins Enterprises for some time. I may as well tell you. If I put all my shares on the market in one go, the other investors will take fright and do the same. The price will crash. Then I'll buy back my own shares and as many as I can of the others at the lowest price to gain control of the company."

She faced him. "It's unscrupulous," she said flatly. "Because of what it does to the little people. You'll end up with a profit, but they'll see their life savings reduced to nothing."

"Sharni," he said at last. "Shares are speculation, risk. People who don't want to take risks should put their money in a building society." He gave her a bitter smile. "You told me the night we met that 'my methods' weren't something you'd stoop to, so you obviously knew I was pretty black."

"But I didn't know..." she whispered through the tears that were beginning to pour down her cheeks. "Mark, listen to me, please," she begged. "I know you think Mint is the only think I care about, but it isn't true. I care about you, and the kind of man you are. I can't just look away and say that nothing else matters as long at there's money to spend on Mint."

"Can't you?" He took a step back and gave her a long cynical gaze. "If _you _can sell yourself to the devil for the place, why should you mind if I do the same, in my own way?"

"But you're turning into a monster," she cried passionately. "It has to be my concern when I see that happening to the man I married."

"You didn't marry a man," he said brutally. "You married a bank account labeled 'Mark Calloway-Mint, for the use of.'"

"That maybe all our marriage is to you," she cried, "but not to me. I want to love you as any wife wants to love her husband. But if you do this horrible thing, _I won't be able to endure the sight of you_."

He stared at her in total silence for a long moment. Then he went to the telephone by the bed. He dialed a number, and after a few moments he barked, "I shall need you tomorrow. You're taking Mrs. Calloway to Mint. Be ready to leave at ten a.m."

He put down the receiver and regarded her with hard eyes of a stranger. "Now you won't have to endure the sight of me," he said, and walked out.


	11. Chapter 11

A/n's: What can I say? I'm lazy.

Chapter Eleven 

Afterwards Sharni remembered the following weeks as among the most miserable, and yet the most satisfying, of her life.

There was delight in seeing how her beloved home was flourishing. Mark had kept his word to the letter. The vacant farms would soon be taken up. The new factor told Sharni that he had more applicants than he could handle.

Joey Rannach had been allowed to stay in his croft, undisturbed, rent free. Sharni knew that the islanders would regard Mark's treatment of Joey as kind of yardstick. Men and machinery were already on Mint working on the airstrip. The site for the hospital was also being cleared. The whole island buzzed with new life and hope, and she thrilled to it.

None on her friends knew of her wretchedness. Her story that she had returned to supervise the changes while Mark was detained on business in was New York was accepted. And if Jani noticed that Sharni and her husband never spoke on the telephone, she kept her own counsel.

Sharni realized now that she had been deluding herself in hoping that they might have a true marriage. Endlessly, she heard in her brain the terrible words, _"You married a bank account labeled 'Mark Calloway-Mint, for the use of.'"_

She could see now how naive she had been in imagine that she would come to terms easily with Mark's world. The moment she opposed Mark he had banished her.

At night she longed for him. She would toss and turn for long desolate hours and finally cry herself to sleep.

Every day she scanned the money pages of the newspapers to see if shares in Hawkins Enterprises had started to sink. But their value held, and the tension of waiting for something to happen became almost unbearable.

One day she opened the paper to find Mark's face staring up at her. The shock was so great that she almost dropped the paper. When she had recovered, she realized that Hawkins was also pictured, over a headline _"Calloway Commences Battle with an Offer Hawkins Can't Refuse."_

Forcing herself to keep steady, she turned to the shares column and sought out Hawkins price. She had to read it three times before she could take in what she was reading.

The price had risen. Only by a fraction, but it had risen.

She turned back swiftly to the main story and began to read. It took her a while to understand the intricacies, but at last she took it in. Mark had no dumped his stock. He was engaged in a straightforward out-in-the-open takeover bid.

The relief was so great that she began to shake. The darkness that had clouded her life was gone in one unbelievably swift movement. Weeping tears of joy, she forced herself to read it again. She knew a small pang of fear as she realized that Mark might lose this battle. By fighting honorably he had left himself-and her, and Mint-vulnerable. But for the moment that fear was only a tiny blot on her happiness.

For a week she tried to follow what was going on, but with little success. She couldn't even tell whether he was winning. Finally, it was over. Mark would be all right. He'd got the control he wanted.

She stared at the phone for a long moment, wondering if she dared to phone him. She put out her hand, then let it fall. After a moment she strode out impatiently. The thought of spending the evening wandering around the Castle like a forlorn ghost on the off chance that Mark would ring was intolerable. And it would almost certainly be a futile wait. Mark could not endure the thought of being overhead by Jessica.

She was determined to enjoy the moment of happiness that had been granted her. It was possible now to believe that her marriage still had a future. Mark was still the man she loved, a man whose decent instincts had prevailed.

"Jani," she called from the hall, "if Mark rings, tell him to call me at The Thistle, please. I'll be there all evening."

Jani emerged from the kitchen. "Yes, madam."

"_Jani, for the love of heaven!_" Sharni exploded. She checked herself at once and went on in a quieter tone. "Please stop calling me madam. It embarrasses me. I'm Sharni."

"Och ay," said the old woman. "It's just that with you being Herself-"

"And Mark-is he Himself?" said Sharni eagerly.

Jani looked uncomfortable. "That'll maybe take a wee bit of time," she said.

"After all he's done for the island-"

"It was yourself did those things and everyone knows it. He'll become one of us, lassie, in time, in his own way."

The evening was a slight disappointment. She had expected to find solace in The Thistle among her old friends, but as they crowded round her she found herself seeing them in a new light. They were safe, although they didn't know they'd ever been in danger. Mark had protected them, but there wasn't one person there who regretted his absence.

When she went home, there had been no call from Mark. Disappointed, she threw herself into bed.

In the morning she could contain her impatience no longer and called Mark's New York number. But there was no reply from the house.

"Look," said Jani, exasperated beyond bearing by Sharni's wandering in and out of the kitchen, "why not take a swim? If he calls I can wave to you from the top of the cliff."

Dispiritedly, Sharni agreed. After the excitement of yesterday, she was experiencing a sense of anticlimax. She didn't know where they went from there.

She began to rummage through the wardrobes to find the things she needed. Just as she was about to push the second one shut she stopped. Several small items fluttered out. There was the formal, chilly note she had written him from Dublin, refusing his dinner invitation. There was a dried spray from her wedding headdress and a strand or two of her own copper hair. 

She sat immobile, stricken by the pathetic tokens that spoke silently of feelings her husband dared not admit.

Mark loved her. She could no longer doubt it. Nothing else could explain why he, the most unsentimental man in the world, had preserved these little mementos of her. Now she discovered that he had been reaching longing hands towards her all the time-and she had never seen them. He loved her. He might never find the words to tell her of his feelings, but they would not change.

Quietly, she put the things back as she had found them. Mark must not know that she had surprised his secret.

She packed her things for the swim and hurried to the beach. The water was cold enough to make her gasp as she plunged in. She swam far out to sea then she turned and trod water, studying Min from this new perspective. The sun was in her eyes, but she had the impression of movement at the top of the cliff. She squinted, and the movement resolved into one man, in a white shirt and black trousers, starting to run down the cliff path.

Her heart stopped. She began to swim towards the shore with swift urgent strokes.

She heard him call her name, and something in its frantic note told her that he thought she was in danger.

"It's all right," she called back.

In another moment she was pressed against him, his mouth on hers in the kiss she had dreamed of ever since they had parted. His muscles moving beneath her hands thrilled her.

They began to hurry up the cliff path. She felt the bass growl of his laughter against her skin. "We've made love a _million _time in the last few weeks-all night and every night, but then I'd wake, and you weren't there, and I'd want to smash something. You owe me all those nights."

Once inside, they stripped down and plunged into a hot bath, rubbing each other down to get rid of the last of the cold. Then Mark locked the door, took her back to bed and made love to her as if it were the first time again. Afterwards, lying drowsily in his arms, she chuckled suddenly and said, "It wasn't my doing that we were apart, Mark."

He was silent for a moment. Then he got up and rummaged in his bag, producing a copy of the paper. He handed it to her, open at the financial pages.

"I've been following the pages every day," she said. "I didn't take it all in, but I knew days ago that you didn't dump your stock. Thank you, Mark."

He shrugged, and a curt note came into his voice. "Don't thank me. I did it for sound practical reasons."

"But you've left yourself worse off. You're in the hands of the banks."

"Yes, but they're reputable banks, not fly-by-night organizations. There's nothing to fear from them. Mint's safe. It'll take time, but I'll pay back all I owe."

"But wouldn't it still have been easier to do it by stock dumping?"

"In the long term, every man has to turn to the banks. Decent banks don't like being associated with sharks. Acting like a shark now could have cost me dearly like on."

"I see," she said, with a little smile that he didn't see. "It was just good business, then?"

"Just good business," he confirmed. "Now, what's _that _for?"

"Nothing. I can kiss you if I want to, can't I?" 


	12. Chapter 12

A/n's: Hey, guys, I would've updated this sooner, but I was up north with my family all weekend. Oh, and I'm sorry how short the actual chapter is this time, but I've decided to do something smart for a change. Ya know how when you go to see a movie they have all those previews for other movies first? Well, that's what I'm doing. See, while I was spending my weekend with my family I had a brainstorm for a new story, and I'm gonna give ya'll a little preview. If it's well received and you guys want more, then I'll go ahead and make an all new fic, if not, then I won't bother.

__

~Coming Soon (?)~

The Other Daughter

(*title is subject to change*)

The two women looked a bit alike. They shared about the same height, the same mane of dark brown hair, the same intelligent gleam brightened thier gazes. Yet, dispite all their similarities, they couldn't have been more different.

One was young, still several years out of her prime...the other was old, nearing life's end. The Grim Reaper had conspired to bring them together where everything else had failed.

"What do you want, Brenda?" asked the younger as she stood at the foot of the elder's hospital bed.

"You are my daughter, Dee. I wanted to see you."

"Wrong," Dee bit out bitterly. "For if I were your daughter, that would mean you're my mother and real mothers don't abandon their children. Now, as I said, what do you want?"

A sigh. This hostility had been expected, and it was deserved. "I am dying, Dee. And when one sees their end, they want to go knowing they have made amends. We've kept something from you, your father...Richard and I, and it's far time you knew."

It was one of those moments, and were only one or two at best, where an entire life changes. Whatever happened from now on, Dee would look back and effortlessly determine the point at which the life she had once lived became the life she could never go back to, and it was at that moment when her biological mother looked up at her and continued with her confession.

"Richard Thompson is not your real father."

Chapter Tweleve

Late Autumn was unexpectedly mild. Mint had flowered into a riot of mellow colors that mirrored Sharni's feelings. Mark was spending much of his time on the island, supervisiong the installion of equipment that turned the Castle into a modern communications center under its weathered exterior.

The airstrip was completed quickly, and by mid-November there was daily flights to the mainland. Mark's own Learjet was flown in by a young pilot whem Sharni immediately liked. He confided to her that he spent much of his time feeling useless, though, as Mark liked to fly the plane himself.

The hospital site had been cleared, and all the machinery and materials moved in. Digging started on the foundations. With luck, and the kind of speedy work Mark seemed able to command, she could hope for the hospital to be ready by the following spring.

__


	13. Chapter 13

A/n's: Honestly, I don't know how I do it either. In truth, so many of stories haven't been updated in so long, and I really want to. But, I live by the rule that I can't force myself to write...I have to let the inspiration come on its own. Anyway, as always I have my shoutouts. Thanks so much to Sharnhorst for the character Sharni and thanks to Dani for sticking with it. I really appreciate the loyalty that both of you have shown for my work. 

Chapter Thirteen

Winter set it. The cold had a bitter quality, encouraging folk to congregate in the Thistle, where there was warmth and light and good Scotch whisky to comfort the heart.

Everyone gave Mark a friendly greeting, yet still there was an air of constraint. There was none of the cheerful, half-disrespectful acceptance they had given Franklin without thinking.

Once, lying the darkness, her head on Mark's shoulder, listening to the deep, slow beat of his heart, Sharni heard him say suddenly, "Never in a hundred years. I guess Joey Rannach was right after all."

Her heart sank. It was so unlike him to accept defeat.

Halfway through December they flew to New York City to embark on a round of Christmas entertaining. They spent Christmas in the city and returned to Mint afterwards for the big Irish celebration of Hogmanay.

In the night the wind gained strength. A gale lashed the house mercilessly. Rain started and was falling in sheets. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but water and bleak grayness.

But inside, the Castle was alive with the big Hogmanay party that was always given in the Castle on New Year's Eve.

The party seemed to take place over most of the house at once and grew more boisterous until suddenly Joey's flying fingers stopped on the violin, and he held up his hand. Everyone fell silent to hear what he had heard-the first chimes of midnight from the great grandfather clock in the hall. As the last note sounded, the Castle was shaken by an earsplitting yell, champagne fizzed from a dozen bottles and Sharni found her husband's eyes on hers. She knew he was sharing her own thoughts-that this year would see the fulfillment or the deaths of all his hopes.

In the early hours folk began to depart. Some, as Sharni predicted, had curled up and happily passed out. Even those who were relatively sober swayed back and forth across the road, buffeted by the mad winds that swept across the island. Sharni stood shivering in the doorway, waving to the last of them, then turned back into the warmth with relief.

"I've just finished counting," said Mark, emerging from the study. "There are twenty still here. Is that normal?"

"It's more than last year," chuckled Sharni, taking his arm. "You're making a good impression. When people camp out in here home on Mint, it's a great compliment."

He grinned and would have said something, but they were interrupted by a violent banging on the front door. Sharni pulled it open and found herself facing one of her neighbors, water streaming all down him and a look of agitation of his face.

"Call the ambulance quickly, Sharni," he said urgently. "Joey's had a serious accident. He took that shortcut home across Creggan Farm, tried to get over a wall and landed on some sort of machinery."

Sharni relayed the details to Ambulance Control in Dublin, then she dashed upstairs to change out of her evening dress into jeans and a sweater. Bundling an parka over everything, she ran down to find Mark waiting in the hall, a raincoat over his evening splendor.

"Thank God that airstrip has proper electric lighting now," she said as they got into the car. "We'd never have kept the tapers alight in this wind and rain."

At last the airstrip came into sight, already lit up. They hurried in and found Joey stretched out on the floor, a coat beneath his head. He was groaning weakly, and his face had the gray color Sharni had learned to associate with death. Dr. Tindall looked up as she entered.

"If they don't get here soon, he hasn't a chance," he said.

For the moment she shaken out of her professional detachment. This wasn'g just a patient. This was Joey, whose cheerful fecklessness had enlivened Mint as long as she could remember.

"It's coming!" someone called. "The plane!"

Everyone crowded out to watch the lights of the little Islander, almost invisible through the rain, coming closer. The wind was tossing the plane round like a feather. It descended shakily, seemed to hover over the landing strip, then made a sudden dive, too late. It hit the strip too close to the end, rose, landed again and slewed round violently, crashing into the double doors of the hanger. The next second everyone was running across the rain-lashed tarmac.

The pilot and nurse regained consciousness almost at once, but both were clearly in a daze. Sharni, preoccupied with helping them out of the plane and into shelter, didn't notice that her husband was no longer with her.

"The plane's damaged," she told Dr. Tindall as he took a hasty look at his new patients. "And even if it wasn't-I don't think these two are seriously hurt, but they're in no state to fly."

He turned his head sharply. "What's that noise?"

Sharni went outside to see the source of the commotion and found the crowd engaged in dragging the plane away from the hangar doors. Mark, lashed by rain, was directing operations.

He turned as he saw her running towards him. "Tell the doctor that we'll do the flight in the Learjet," he shouted above the storm.

He gave her a sharp look and Sharni dived into the crippled Islander. She seized the nurse's bag full of drugs, bandages, and equipment and, with someone's help, shifted the stretcher to the Learjet.

Sharni ran back to the building where Joey was lying, still alive but only just. Mark followed her inside. 

"We're ready for him," she told Dr. Tindall. "I'll give him a shot just before we take off."

Mark seized Sharni's arm. "Do you think I'm going to let you go on this journey?"

She stared at him. "Joey _has _to have someone to look after him. You can see the state he's in, and that nurse has a concussion. I've done this job before."

"Let Dr. Tindall go."

"His job is here, caring for that nurse and pilot. Mine is up there, doing what I was trained to do. You can't stop me. If you tried, everyone here would be against you forever."

He looked at her wildly. "That doesn't mater," he yelled. "There's every chance you'll crash and be killed. Do you think I'm going to risk that just so Mint can say what a fine fellow I am?"

She shook her head and put her hands on his shoulders. "I'm going."

He didn't move at first. Then abruptly he wrenched himself out of her grasp and strode out the door. The darkness swallowed him up at once.

Moments later she could make out the Learjet. She went out, climbed aboard and turned at once to guide the stretcher in. She had filled the syringe and plunged the needle into Joey's arm. He eyes closed almost at once.

"Tell me as soon as you're ready," came a voice from the pilot's seat, causing her head to jerk up.

"_Mark!_"

Till that moment she had not looked at the man sitting there and only now realized that it was her husband. As the door slammed shut, she heard a shout from outside.

"_Himself if flying the plane!_"

Mark was taking the plane to the end of the runway, his whole attention absorbed by the task at hand. He slipped the headphones on and peered out at the tarmac.

"Hold on something," he yelled, "and brace yourself."

The little plane shot forward, gaining speed with every yard. There was a lurch, and they were airborne. Sharni flattened herself on the floor next to Joey and flung a protective arm across him. Her ear was against the floor, and the vibrations seemed to thunder right through her.

The storm attacked them like an enemy. She had flown in storms before, but never one like this. Mark had said they probably wouldn't make it, and now she knew he was right.

She had the sensation of falling at terrifying speed. Then she felt herself jerked into the air.

They were yawing about the sky again and she was clinging on for dear life. Then, after what seemed an eternity, she felt, rather than heard, the note of the engine change; they were losing height, going steadily down and down....

"_Mark!_" she screamed.

"Just hold on another few minutes," he yelled back.

In another moment there was a heavy bump and the plane's movement changed, slowed, stopped.

Only then did she realize that they had landed. Over her head she was aware of Mark reaching from the pilot seat to open the door so that the ground ambulance crew could climb in. He wrenched open his seat belt and flung himself down beside Sharni. He pulled her up sharply into a sitting position and drew her against himself, kneeling beside her.

There was an orderly commotion, the stretcher being lifted and guided out of the plane. Sharni remained leaning against Mark. Her brain was coming back to life, clamoring with questions.

"Why, Mark?" she said, looking up at him. "Why?"

He put one hand on each side of her face and looked down at her.

"The world had no meaning to me without you. That's how much I love you." He bent his head and kissed her for a long heart-stopping moment.

He loved her. In her heart she had known it, but there was still a special joy in hearing him say the words. She managed to move frozen lips enough to kiss him back.

"They've accepted you," she said happily. "Did you hear what they said before we took off? '_Himself is flying the plane._' Now you'll have everything you want."

"Everything I want is right here" he said, tightening his arms. "You're all that matters-as long as _you _accept me and promise never to go away. Stay with me always, Sharni. I won't ask for much, just as long as you're there. I can love enough for the both of us."

She stared at him, puzzled. And then, as if someone had ripped a curtain aside, she saw what had been staring her in the face all the time. He believed that rivals could fear and hate him for his power, that women could pursue him for his money and sexual 

skill. But he could not believe that anyone could find him lovable as a man-even his wife.

She began to see that it would be a gigantic task to make him understand the truth, and that it might take all their lives.

With Mark's help, she managed to climb out of the plane. The wind had dropped, and in the distance the lights of the main airport buildings gleamed invitingly.

"Do you know what I think?" she said softly. "I think I should like to have our first baby as soon as possible."

"But the hospital isn't nearly ready."

"No, my love, but we are."

She took his hand and began to lead him to where the warmth and light beckoned them.

****

Fin


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